


I'm just as guilty as you

by dauntingScribbler



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Nightmares, a lot of gore, as it stands, ask me to tag anything else!, except for one more chapter but i'm debating..., this is p much done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauntingScribbler/pseuds/dauntingScribbler
Summary: This isn't complete!! (yet.) It's basically just here so I can edit it from time to time... thinkin abt makin a story from it idk. U can leave comments on how to improve it if u want!





	

**Author's Note:**

> please,,, somebody teach me how to color text on this. or do it for me. please.

It doesn't feel very different at first.

The sky is blue, the air is crisp, and there's the familiar scream of cicadas somewhere close but not anywhere where you can pin it directly. Right now, all you can see is white, when you take a step back and look up, you can see that it's a fence. A very.. familiar fence? You feel something in your core tell you that you should be able to see above this fence, and it's very weird that you can't now, but.. you feel as if the fence had done nothing to deserve such suspicion. Familiar voices are heard behind the fence, and your memories pinpoint them to your usually almost deadly silent neighbors--why were they all outside now? Because it's a very bright and sunny day? Is there something you can't see? Your focus doesn't remain on the fence and what mysterious it hold behinds it for long, as your mind turns to focus on one special, green son of a bitch. You turn to see your life long nemesis, the green slime pogo. The thing that haunts you day in and day out. You're walking towards it hurriedly, and you can feel the cold wind against your gums when you break out into a smile and the wind caresses the empty spots. Once that slimy fuck is in arms reach, small hands (yet to be calloused with years of fighting, yet to be weighted with the responsibility of keeping it together, yet already stained with blood.) wrapped around the handles, fingers slipping into the familiar grooves. You tilt it towards yourself and set one foot on the peg, swinging the other to stand on the opposite, waiting until your body was stable and vision was clear enough before you were ready for attempt 612 to overcome this damned toy. The momentum is easy, as this was a common practice. Tilting your head back you bring it back with you, then slam your body forth. It creates only a small bob, but as you continue the process the bobs stretch into strides, and you're starting to get light headed. Your vision becomes vertical lines and the flighty feeling you'd soon learn is called whiplash makes your stomach flip uncomfortably. Hair whips in your face and your glasses are somehow miraculously still plastered on your ugly face. As (misplaced.) confidence built up you release one hand from the handle and in just that second you fall off, head first as you tumble across the grass, and end up skidding your knee across the rocks that were hidden beneath the blades. A pained cry comes only after a few seconds--but it doesn't sound quite like yours. Yes, you've just fallen and hurt yourself so context clues would tell you that this was in fact, you screaming, but it's so... high pitched, and uncontrollable. the mere fact that these tears fall so freely makes your body feel unlike your own. This unsettling scream had masked the sound of the front door opening, and the security lady in the background warning the now empty house that the Front Door Has Been Opened in her lazy, monotonous voice. HUmiliation came after your mouth was shut, a few sniffles and your teeth chewing on your lip, possibly aiming to chew it right off. Where whiplash had once been, a seed of fear had replaced it. Your bleeding knee was brought up and off the grass and closer to your chest your brown cargo pants now bearing a muddy red stain. Something told you to keep your head down, and you did, staring right at the grass as your snot drips from your nostrils and onto the ground, glasses slipping just slightly down your nose. Several rounds of bone cracking went off behind you can you can feel hundreds of eyes all over you, making your shoulders hunch and your fingers wrap around the fat of your leg. There were words being thrown around, in a far off language that you understood, but at the same time was nothing but gibberish. It was only until you no longer felt the heat of the sun blazing down on your skin that you decided to lift your head, but only by a fraction. That very tall and broad person had knelt down in front of you and assaulted your nose with the scents of vanilla and cologne. They set down a first aid kit box beside you, and after popping it open, began to work like it had no effect on them. 

 

When this person spoke, it felt warm. It didn't feel as uncomfortable and as ear grating as your own, but. It felt just right. (There's a pang in your chest, a sense of confused longing, but it's ignored.) "JOHN. THAT TOY HAS A BRIGHT RED LABEL THAT SAYS IT IS UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES TO BE USED BY CHILDREN WHILE UNSUPERVISED. I KNOW YOU ARE SMART ENOUGH TO READ AND COMPREHEND THAT. I ALSO KNOW YOU LONG FOR THE DAY TO NOT BE CONSIDERED A CHILD BUT UNTIL THEN YOU DO HAVE TO OBEY THE RULES, SON. YOU'VE MADE QUITE A MESS, HAVE YOU NOTICED THAT EVERYONE IS STARING AT YOU, MY BOY?" This, of course, was obvious. The bone popping noise must've been everybody collectively stopping their actions to watch you. Unmoving, unblinking, not even a single breath. Just the normal thing that happens. You can feel your mouth forming words but they don't actually come out. Instead, both heads start to rise, eyes ready to meet. Except, there's none to be found. There isn't a mouth either. Eyebrows, eyelids the mole that was supposed to be near his mouth were all gone. There was nothing. His face. His face is missing. Why couldn't you see a face? More importantly, why aren't you moving? Why are you just sitting there, looking at this..monster in front of him and not move at all? Isn't this the part in the scary movie where you're supposed to value your life and run to the hills? Even with Dad's eyes missing you can still feel the spine-chilling feeling of being watched. A quick look around and there's no doubt that there are still eyes on you. "YOU'VE EMBARASSED ME. I BELIEVE I TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN THAT, NOW. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE PROUD OF SUCH A FAILURE LIKE YOU? YOU COULDN'T EVEN CONQUER THIS JUVINIELE TOY. H̫O̘̰͠W͇ ̫̙̩̟C̶OULD ̖͈̬̙I̺͇̮͚͞ ̞̣̦̬͡A̧̬͙͉̯S̺͚̣̗̣͉K͟ ̤͉͟Y̛̼͚̝O͓U T̖͖̟͓̬͖̞O̼̻ ̬͞P̻̻̟̱͔̤͞ͅR̦̩̖̲͕͔O̵͔͖̞͕̹̬T͉̭̩͕͚͠Ę̜̬̪̱C͓̳̗̘̘͜T҉̖͔̖ ̦͓͎̼͠M̤E̶̳̖?̻̞͓̪̹̱̥"

 

His voice distorted, like when a VCR is broken and it slowly comes to a disturbing stop. It slows down, and at the same time, it gets louder and deeper.

Oh., you realize. This is where it turns out it's different, huh?

Now, you decide, is a great time to blink, to be scared. A quick flash of black and while your eyes are trying to settle a face comes to be. Frightened, you put both heels of your palm on the ground and scoot back, dirt accumulating under your fingernails. Dad's face was slowly being distorted as if it were being melted as he smoothed on the band-aid. His cheeks were drooping, mouth not really attached to anything, was now where his chin used to be. His nose was sideways moving slowly but surely and his eyes were slowly coming from their socket. (Surprisingly, his ears were relatively unaffected.) Fear finally, finally thawed your body with a chilling tingle down your back. A sharp inhale, your own eyes widening, you move your tiny body as fast as possible from your father and towards the gate; though the second you even moved a muscle, the onlookers took that as the sign to pounce, slow and clumsy movements as if they were struggling to keep upright. The way they moved seemed so.. familiar. Like you've definitely seen something like this before but with the fear in your mind, you just can't seem to pull that memory out just yet. One outstretched their arm, and black, steaming goop fell from them, plopping onto the grass with a disgusting _scloop_. Yellow eyes were all that met yours when you went looking for the offender, the fence.. weirdly easy to see behind now. You come to realize that you're too small to get away, you're desperately looking for an exit but they're all being closed off. Your father turned monster was a relentless beast. He knew where you were, even with both eyes hanging on by thin veins. 

Dad--no, this beast was relentless, grabbing your ankle and giving it a firm tug. His outstretched arm was melting, his skin falling slowly down and being replaced by black sludge. He was melting, Dad was melting and being replaced by this beast and his teeth were growing razor sharp but even so, he still managed to speak in that weird broken way. "H̻O̶҉̛̖̮̬̠W͖̬̮̞̳̕ͅ ̢̛̣̝̲̞̱̙̤͞ͅC̢̺͙͈̫͢͞A̫N̴̵͇̪̘̙̣̦ ̴̳̻̻̟͓̝͍I̝̬̣̤ ̶̹̰̖̤̤̝̪͜ͅA̶͎̝̟̟͕̰̞S̠͚̖̹̬͞͠K͜͏̯̦̳̯͢ ͎̞̙͔̝͖͟A͖̦͈̝ͅͅ ̨͎̯͖̪̪̱̕͢F̮͕̦̫̱͞͞A̝̺̲͙̹ͅͅI̶̸͈̘̩͞L̴̮̼̥̻U͏͕R̴̛͖̰͜Ḛ̷̖̲͞ ҉̜͎̼̘̫L̜̫̭̦I̸̡̱͓̹̘̪͇̱̲͖Ḵ̲͔͘E͚̯̩̺̫̙ ̛̖̦̫̹̜̳͚̝Y̷͏̤̺̬͉̘̜̦̘O̢̦̤̖̳̱̬̬U̶͏̞̻̘̬͍̻̪ ̲̗͎̜̗̘̲͕͡T͝͏̞̺̟̩͎̰ͅO̵͔̣̙̟̣̩ͅ ̳̤͇̠̤̼̞̗̤͜͞S̝̹͜A̵͖͍V̶̢̫̪͇̹̤̜̼̠E͏͎͡ ̷҉͍͝M̵̶̪̬̺̬̟̪͚̝Y̷̥͕̱͇̯̹̦͘ ̡̞̮̫͇̲̯̝͇L̶̼͉̱̘̪͙͈͞I̸̡͔͖̙͖͇F͚͍̱̤̹͔E̶̺͍̘̼̠?̡̣͝"

 

His voice was booming, though, at the same time muffled, there's a sound similar to a scratched CD. His voice had become irritating; grating your ears but you couldn't cover them. Instead, you just stare dumbfounded and stupid. The beasts now onyx black skin boiled like soup in a pot, bubbles rising and popping giving off the stench akin to spoiled meat and feces. His once calming blue eyes had fallen in front of you and new ones were slowly popping out with a sick, squelching sound. The gate is rattling as the neighbors pile against it like brainless zombies. Reaching for you, chanting some words your mind is too busy to even try and comprehend. A quick look at them and they've changed as well. Sharp teeth, black skin, one of them has a colorful jester-like hat. Get away. you have to get away. Adrenaline pulsing through you, common sense finally praises you, giving you the courage to run. The almost burning grasp at you ankle didn't help, and mentally you curse your father's supernatural strength. On instinct, you run towards the backyard gate. There's an opening somewhere, you can find it. There are two now, two burning hot hands on your ankles but you aren't slowing down. Your hands reach the lock and you want to scream out hallelujah but right when your hands clasp around it, all the fight is washed away, almost as if on purpose. It'd be a futile attempt. There was nowhere left to run. You're seven, you can't run for long, and there are full grown adults chasing after you. You're nothing but a fucking failure, so why should you try? Why WERE you trying? (no, no run. please. get away. run. why did you stop?)

 

The gate finally gives out, debris flying into the air, and dust falls into your eyes, and the brain-dead neighbors swarm towards your lone figure, you were left standing at the forefront of the oncoming danger. Your back hits the gate as you take your last few steps away; they have you cornered. Cornered, sweating, and sobbing. (when did that happen?) Didn't even look twice at the gate opening and as the backyard began to cave in. A hand reaches out for you amongst the crowd, and before you can even think of giving a scream, it all fades to black.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When everything settles it's still black, nearly pitch dark, but there's a feeling that time has passed. You feel more comfortable in your skin, taller. Somewhat at peace, but still far from it. Your hands feel heavier and you.. feel like you have a purpose in life. Your clothes feel different; they feel more breathable. You look down. God tier, why are you here? The game is over, they won, he had his freedom. Why are you here again? The question is the only thing ringing in your mind. Where are you, anyway? When you look up from your clothes, there's a dim light shining from somewhere. Thanks to the light, you can see silhouettes-- but they stop their actions just as you look at them and out of courtesy, you look away. That seemed to be the wrong move, as giggling came from them. Furrowing your eyebrows and scrunching up your face you move closer, but they stop. 'alright', you think. 'maybe they're.. not laughing at me?'  you decide to take a step back, but when you do, there's a loud howl of laughter coming from right behind you, and you flinch. Your shoe is gone, and your foot is wet. You look down to your foot, then back up, and there's a silhouette. But it's moving. Right at you. 

Again, you look down at your foot and surprised at the red you see, you can't help the shiver that courses through your body. As it stands, you could either see what that person wants, or you could follow the harking laughter behind you. Your emotions are, for some reason, making you more inclined to see what that body way over yonder could possibly want with you, and well, those laughs don't' sound completely inviting. Your feet start to move on their own towards the silhouette, and the closer you get, the more you feel as if you know this person. This.. limping almost sickly girl? If you squint there's a blotch of red, and that's when you start to hurry. Just as she's within arms reach she collapses, and instead of you, she meets the cold embrace of the floor. When her body hits it sounds as if she's fallen into a puddle, but you're sure there isn't enough liquid, or any at all to produce that kind of sound. A quick double check of the ground beneath you solidifies that thought into a fact, and your eyes wander back to this girl. Within the seconds you had your eyes off of her she had grown a dark gray, illuminating her skin. Without warning, her head snaps up, right at you. Her blank eyes tell stories that go far above your head, and her glowing gray skin shows off her features enough so that you could finally put a name to this face. This was Rose. She'd been stabbed by something and.. does she think you stabbed her? There's a pool of blood surrounding her.

Oh dear god, you're going to be sick. This weird version of reality won't give you the satisfaction of letting you throw up, instead, forcing you to speak. Your voice is careful, slow, and a lot deeper than you remembered it to be. 

"Rose? Are--Can you--"

Her body, her sickly, dripping bloody body comes to a stand so fast some of her blood flicks on your face. You took a cautious step away from her, color bleeding into the scene and within seconds you realize you're back in SBURB. You're on that balcony where your dead dad and Rose's dead mom were on a date or something. With the new bright lighting, you could look at Rose-- and the scene a little bit more carefully. Her hair is tousled, knotted where blood has dried and frayed from all of this movement. The sun only makes her skin look more sickly, the stench of rotting bodies almost outweighs the overwhelming screams of laughter that seems to be planted in his mind. 

"Rose.." You instinctively reach out an arm, and she lunges at you without another thought.

 

Both hands are curled into fists and your arms come quickly to protect your face, shoulders hunched and upper body bent over and eyes squeezed shut, anticipating the impact that never really happened. Instead, just a large clank in its place. When you open your eyes you're surprised to see a prison cell door was separating the two of you, somewhat thankful and somewhat frightened. The laughter in the back of your head decided to pipe up once more, forcing you to cower for a few seconds, feet dragging themselves backward. IN front of you, Rose had begun to shake the bars while screaming. Her voice sounds like she's screaming into a broken auto-tune mic that just keeps raising the pitch in a really off putting way. She looks so hurt, and so angry... Did.. did you do that to her? Did you do this to everyone? You were supposed to be their leader--their friend, of course, but also their leader. 

Since you failed, doesn't that mean all of this blood and all of this death is your fault too? Do they know this? Do they hate you? Do they blame you? 

Something barely intelligent spills from Rose, it's not much, and you could barely recognize them at first, but a closer listen, after a bad attempt at trying to mute the laughter he could.. pick out some words?

 

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh _stupid_ R'lyeh wgah'nagl _john_ fhtagn. Orr'e mg f'ron shugg naflsgn'wahl, syha'hyar Shub-Nirurath orr'e 'ai ng'bthnk tharanak _worthless_ y'hah shagg sgn'wahl hafh'drn, li'heenyth uln stell'bsna h'Hastur ron shugg ph'geb uaaah naflehye. Nog grah'n shaggagl syha'h _failed_ Shub-Niggurath ebunma gof'nn vulgtm nogyar sll'ha, fm'latgh ah gotha shtunggli Nyarlathotep vulgtlaglnoth r'luh kadishtu, Shub-Nirurath 'fhalma geb ph'mg 'ai n'ghftagl lw'nafh csgn'wahl. Fhtagn Shub-Nirurathnyth k'yarnak f'Hastur stell'bsna ebunma ph'Shub-Niggurath hai, JOHN cshogg chtenff fault R'lyeh mg Cthulhu nnnftaghu, nilgh'ri f'tharanak k'yarnak h'nglui cDagon nnnnog!Ph''ai shogg nnnnog , _help_ chtenff fhtagn hlirgh n'gha vulgtm f'hai lloig, h'llll sll'ha ep h'ooboshu , _mother_ ph'uaaah hafh'drn naflchtenff Hastur shtunggli, ebunmaog die Hastur hlirgh mnahn' hupadgh alone gnaiih hupadgh uh'e! "

 

You want to scream. You want to scream and cry but as soon as you open your mouth a firm, warm hand seizes your shoulder. Your head turns and you meet with yet, another familiar face. Jade, your ecto-sister. Your gray, mutated, furry ectosister. Her eyes are out of your vision for some reason, and when you look at her, her skin is gray. A darker gray than Rose, who still, hasn't given up on the prison cell door. You're about to question her eyes when something is moving in the corner of your eyes. Her nails are steadily growing sharper and thinner, almost like.. claws? The laughter planted in your head begins to peek up once more, enjoying the fear slowly installed in you. The Hoo's and Hee's are bringing on a migraine and both your hands are on hers trying their damnedest to pull it off. Jade barks, loud and commanding. Her hot breath is all you can smell and the laughter immediately ceases. 

You look at her mouth, and it's moving. She's speaking, obviously, probably something important but you can't hear her. Somehow, the silence is jarringly louder than anything else. Her hand is soon tugged off of your shoulder and you waste absolutely no time at all shoving her towards Rose and taking a few steps back. Of course, she snarls, showing off those terrifyingly sharp canine teeth, and green energy zaps all around her. She lunges at him, and another cell door blocked the way. The silence is still overbearing. Carefully, you turn around and notice that something is.. very off. You're on the balcony, where your dad died, and you saw his corpse not too long ago, but why is it gone? Why can you see your backyard again? You turn your head to the left, where the image of better days make your eyes sting. You blink and that melted version of your father-- and those blackened zombies are behind him, moaning and groaning all in unison, your name. Dad's skin is still bubbling and boiling and the stench is back, tenfold. Fear takes over your body and you run the opposite way, a futile attempt to get away. There's an army coming to your right, an army that proved your failures. Rose, in her god-tier outfit bleeding out of the sun on her chest. Dave with two swords sticking out of his body, his shades are broken and his eyes give off such an intense hatred and they're walking right at you. Jade is following close behind, top half smashed, blood everywhere and if it weren't for her glasses and her sparkly red shoes, you wouldn't even be able to recognize her. Jane and Jake are next to her--their bodies are melted together on some sort of horrified sword shishkebab, and Karkat with his skin bubbling and they all have this betrayed look on their face. You can't see Terezi's face, even though she's splattered with blood and there's an obvious limp to her walk, but you'd bet she had the same type of emotion. This is all aimed towards you. They're trying to send you a message. More and more friends keep showing up, in different outfits, different scars. Everything you could've prevented but you were--you are too stupid to take things up into your own hands. 

Subconsciously, you step Dad-wards again, the slamming of another cell door halting your movements. You can feel hands grabbing at your clothes, tugging the fabric and you by extension wherever they pleased. Black sludge is starting to pool at your feet and you're stumbling to every corner, trying to shove some of the hands off, and finding another way out but you're locked in. Above you, the laughter begins yet again, but this time, they actually speak, and then laugh, as if they're telling jokes. 

"He couldn't even keep one person alive!"  
laugh.  
"He's so stupid. What did he think he was doing?"  
_laugh._  
"Why didn't he listen?"  
**Laugh.**  
"What did he think he could do in the first place?"  
**_Laugh._**  
"Couldn't even help his best friend."  
LAUGH.  
"Aw, do you miss dad?"  
_LAUGH_  
"Look at him, he's going to cry!"  
**_LAUGH!_**

It was irritating, the high pitched screams, the rattling of the bars, being pushed and shoved-- being _contained_ like this was too much. There was too much to think of. 

"This is your fault. You did this to us. You killed us. You did this." The words materialized, written in the darkness in familiar colors. Red, purple, green.. and blue? He looked towards the opposite way, and the same words, in the same colors, were just there. And then there came another. And another. And another. 

 

"This is your fault. You did this to us. You killed us. You did this."

 

"This is your fault. You did this to us. You killed us. You did this.."

 

"This is your fault. You did this to us. You killed us. You did this."

 

"This is your fault. You did this to us. You killed us. You did this. M U R D E R E R!"

 

You can't help but feel compelled to fight those claims. It's not your fault, you didn't mean it. You didn't want any of this to happen. You just wanted to play a game, you wanted to hang out with your friends. It was supposed to be fun. It was only supposed to last a day. You're not a murderer. You're just a kid. Before you know it, you're screaming these claims on the top of your lungs, but still, you're drowned out by the voices of many. Hell, you can't even hear yourself at this point. A single tear rolls down your cheek and you notice something new. 

"hOnK :O)"

It's plastered on the ground in what you can only assume is blood, you can barely make it out between the hands grabbing you in different directions and the voices yelling at you from within your head. Right before you could put your finger on the whole situation, there's a distinct, firm, hot hand on your shoulder, and then something--or somethings are poking against your back. 

You've been in this situation too many times to know that you've been stabbed, yet again. Still, it's just as horrifying as your first time. The hands seem to retract and the jail cell doors fall to the ground. Your head slowly tilts down and your hands are circling around the blade that's drenched in your blood. Your eyes are wide and stinging, you feel compelled to cough, and when you do so, there's only more red that comes out. You aren't sure how much longer you can stand, slowly kneeling down, scared--absolutely horrified at this outcome. You can't stop coughing, and your vision is blurry now. You tilt your head up, to get a glimpse at the offender. There's a wild mess of black hair, black and gray paint. Green glitches cover the figure and in the milliseconds it clears, it's a black dog with a colorful scarf. Another glitch shows an outstretched hand towards you, and the golden cufflink seem all too familiar before everything comes to a close.


End file.
